Jambo

16th September 1956

Squashed on the sofa amongst my three brothers, I sat staring at both of my parents as my brothers fidgeted next to me. Tony the eldest had a look of shock written across his face, Brian looked full of excitement and Dave, who was just a few years older than me looked just as confused as myself. My 4-year-old eyes were wide with confusion as I listened to my parents talking to us, trying to understand what they were saying. They seemed to be talking fast, mum was flapping around while Dad looked like the cat who had just got all the cream. Cigarette smoke encircled their heads, causing their own private clouds to form above them, floating across the ceiling.

“So, Daddy’s off to Africa,” Mum explained again to us, my little brain tried to fathom out just where Africa was as I watched the conversation unfold around me.

“That’s amazing Dad! Just think of all the animals you’ll see. I bet they’ll be lions and elephants and everything!” Brian stated, his voice getting louder with the excitement.

“When?” Tony demand. “When is he going?” He was talking as if Dad had already gone, and wasn’t sat there like he normally was on a Saturday evening. Dad leaned forward to address us all, his elbows on his knees, Mum stood up and wandered around the living room, her personal cloud of smoke followed her.

“End of November sons. It’s for 12 months and then I’ll be home. Just the 1 year and I’ll be able to come home with a better life for us. Better pay than the mines here, a better way of living. They’re all talking about it at the mines, they all want the better life. It’s a horrible way to work here, far too dangerous and far too little money.”

Dave finally found his voice next to me, I could feel him tense up and his voice came out as a little squeak at first. “What about us Daddy?” I watched dad’s adams apple bob up and down as he swallowed and he glanced at Mum.

“Well son, you’ll stay here with Mum. You’ll be just grand, carry on going to school and help mum out. Tony will be man of the house while I’m away of course.” he glanced at Tony, who’s face changed as he straightened up his back, proud as punch. “And you’ll be able to write to me, every day if you want, and I’ll write back. Before you know it, the year will be up and I’ll be sitting right back here.”

Everyone stayed silent for a few minutes thinking and then mum announced we’d have chip shop for tea to celebrate, and just like that everything was back to normal. Tony said he’d walk with Dad to the chip shop, Mum stayed with us to warm the plates, and Brian rushed off to his mates to tell him of our news, which I was still struggling to understand what was so exciting. We all went to bed that night with a feeling that something major had changed and a big change was definitely coming our way. As I climbed into bed with Dave - we were unlucky to have beds of our own - and I heard mum whispering to Dad about how much she’d miss him. I whispered to Dave “Where is Africa?”

“I dunno” he replied. “But far far away.” I could hear Tony and Brian talking in the room next to ours about what ‘man of the house’ truly meant. I knew for certain that as much as I loved Tony, and all of my brothers, the only man of the house I wanted was my Dad. Hugging Bruno my bear tight, I quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Waking up the next morning, I climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Dave. Being the youngest I was often the first of us to wake up, so grabbing my dressing gown, I tiptoed out onto the landing. I could hear mum and dad talking in the kitchen before I’d even put my foot onto the first step of the stairs. I made my way down and could instantly smell last nights chip shop tea lingering in the air, with a mix of yet more cigarette smoke. Both mum and dad smoked, near enough every grown-up I knew did, it was just what grown-ups did. I followed the smell and the sound of their voices and entered the kitchen. Mum had the fire lit in and the warmth of the room made me realise just how chilly it was outside that room.

“Morning son,” Dad said cheerfully, and I took my place next to him at the table. He was already reading the morning newspaper, muttering to himself about mines and how he’ll be glad to get out of the place. Mum was making herself a cup of tea before joining us at the table. She had her notepad ready with her trusty parker pen and I could see she had already started making a list. I couldn’t read yet, so I wasn’t sure what she was writing but every now and again she’d interrupt dad.

“Do you think you’ll need trousers? How hot will it be over there in November?” she’d ask and dad would fire off one-worded answers in between reading the paper.

It seemed ages before the other boys woke up, so I kept myself busy doing a jigsaw puzzle one of mum’s friends had given to me. We got given a lot of ‘hand me downs’ and were only allowed new toys at Christmas or for our birthdays, and even then we would only have one or two. Clothes were brought on a when needs be situation, often Tony would only have new clothes with him being the eldest, and the rest of us would have Tony’s hand me downs, most of them covered in patches or had holes sewn shut in them many a time by the time they reached me. Mum also made a lot of our winter jumpers, as it was cheaper to buy wool than to buy new jumpers. We had to share beds and bedrooms too, which wasn’t a rare situation where we lived, near enough every child I knew had to sleep in the same bed as their siblings, that was unless they were lucky enough to be an only child. Despite all of this, we were such happy children and knew no different. We made the best of anything and our imaginations definitely kept us entertained.

By the time the rest of the boys had got up, I had finished my puzzle, was dressed, washed and all set for the day. Lucky for me, my brothers were very much the ‘get up and go’ type of people, grabbing some cold toast off the table, Brian was instantly raring to go.

“Wanna come to the brook with us?” he asked, and I jumped up instantly desperate to gp. “Mum, we’re off to the brook!” he yelled as we all left the house, and we heard mum shout behind the closed door “Be home in time for tea”

And just like that, everything was briefly back to normal. Just four brothers and their friends getting far too muddy for anyone’s liking, riding through fields and brooks on a chilly September Sunday. From then until Dad’s departure date, I would pretend everything was normal. When people talked about Dad going to Africa, I quickly learned the correct reactions and phrases to say. Telling people how pleased we were for him, how exciting it must be, what an adventure he would be going on. Secretly, deep down, I wanted nothing more than to go with him. What 4-year-old child wouldn’t want a big exciting adventure too?